Having made his name with the kind of horror films that inspired the term “torture-porn,” producer-writer Eli Roth tries to show that there are other tricks up his sleeve with “Aftershock.” Think of it as a 1970s’ disaster movie, spiked with 21st-century horror effects. Irwin Allen meets Robert Rodriguez.

Roth produced, co-wrote and stars in this film by Chilean filmmaker Nicolas Lopez, playing the appropriately named Gringo. He’s an American on vacation in Santiago with a friend he met as a foreign-exchange student, Ariel (Ariel Levy). They’re both under the influence of Ariel’s childhood friend, Pollo (Nicolas Martinez), an unshaven, balding, pudgy party animal with a rich daddy. (More…)

Sarah Polley’s “Stories We Tell” is one of the year’s best films: funny, moving, thought-provoking – and so personal that it strikes universal chords.

While critics often score indulgent filmmakers by referring to their efforts as “home movies,” Polley has turned that insult on its head. She takes her actual home movies and repurposes them as a documentary about the nature of how we tell the stories of our lives. (More…)

You probably have to be in the right mood to appreciate “Sightseers” – a mood that involves dark thoughts, perseverance and a grisly sense of humor.

If you ever imagine gruesome deaths befalling people who annoy you in the course of your day – people you may not even know but who instantly rub you the wrong way – well, this is the movie for you. (More…)

Apparently, it’s already open season on Baz Luhrmann’s version of “The Great Gatsby,” which blasts off in 3D on Friday before opening the Cannes Film Festival next week. I have a hunch the knives have been out since it was postponed from its 2012 release date.

But don’t believe the hate. “The Great Gatsby” is not a terrible film; indeed, it’s a surprisingly affecting one. (More…)

Fashion entered my life in junior high school, when it suddenly became imperative that I own a Gant dress shirt, the kind with a loop on the back. These were deemed the ne plus ultra of cool – and the only place you could buy them was the Northbriar Shop of the now-defunct Dayton’s department store, at least in my hometown of Minneapolis. But, in 1963, spending $14 for a shirt seemed extravagant and profligate (at least to my parents).

Since then, I’ve decided that fashion is both silly and pointless. Fashion Week? I wouldn’t get within a mile of it – and the photos I see make me think that Hans Christian Andersen would be pocketing crazy cash from the annual parade of “The Emperor’s New Clothes” at those self-important tents in Bryant Park or behind Lincoln Center.

So I’m obviously not the target demographic for Matthew Miele’s documentary, “Scatter My Ashes at Bergdorf’s.” (More…)